


Iridescent Clouds

by Noonaneomuyeppeo



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Artist Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Awkward Mark Lee (NCT), Confusion, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Johnten endgame, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, M/M, Suh Youngho | Johnny is Whipped, Suh Youngho | Johnny-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noonaneomuyeppeo/pseuds/Noonaneomuyeppeo
Summary: "So when the plane finally lands he's standing there, empty handed with coffee and mint on his breath, waiting for his...yeah, that's just it. His what?"Or:Johnny has been dating Mark online for months, and when he has business in Seoul they finally get the chance to meet for the first time.But it turns out that reality rarely lives up to what you have envisioned, as he is soon made aware.And when he's struck by a mesmerising painting, only to meet its mysterious and alluring artist, his whole world seems to tilt on its axis, and his best friend Yuta is of absolutely no help at all.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

Johnny looks at his wrist watch for the umpteenth time. Time has never gone by this slowly before. He paces the hall of the gate, passing the same shops and cafés again. He tries everything to make time pass, cursing the fact that he came here hours early, but he couldn't stand waiting at home either. He goes to the bathroom again, buys his third coffee (on a empty stomach, yeah he will feel that later), rushes into the gift shop in panic when he realises he will have coffee-breath and comes out with a little panda plushie. He walks around, plushie in hand, but gives it to a passing child (earning him dark scowls from their mother) when he's convinced himself that it was a stupid idea. 

So when the plane finally lands he's standing there, empty handed with coffee and mint on his breath, waiting for his...yeah, that's just it. His what?

They met online, of course. Not on a dating app or something like that. They just started talking in the comments to a Taemin video. Johnny had praised it (What? Have you seen Taemin? Of course he praised it. And watched it. On repeat.) when he saw someone commenting on it with the word "Gay". So Johnny did what he always does and turned to rhetoric, trying to talk to the person. When the comment was deleted he searched for the user, sending a DM with a (perhaps overly) long explanation to why they shouldn't have written what they wrote. He had no hope of getting an answer, only hoping he had made the person think twice before spreading homophobia again.

To his surprise he actually got an answer.

" _Shit man, I'm so sorry I offended you. The comment was only meant for Taemin to see. We kinda know each other and have these jokes, you know. I didn't think about others reading it, feeling hurt or whatever. Really sorry!"_

Of course he called him out on pretending to know Taemin and that is how they got to talking. Turns out that Mark, as his name is, who lived in Ontario but had Korean parents, actually had collaborated with Taemin. He was an aspiring musician and they kind of bonded over both being children of expats and their love for music. Months and several messages passed and they eventually started talking over the phone daily. Their casual bond deepening into something else. And when Mark had business in Seoul, talking to companies, it just seemed like the right time to finally meet.

So. Here he is. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, fidgeting with the cuffs of his brown, plaid blazer. Checking how his narrow, blue jeans sit over his brown leather boots. Adjusting his bangs for the thirteenth time. Nervous butterflies in his stomach, not helping with the caffeine overdose, making him shaky, fidgety and a bit queasy. The automatic doors open and a stream of passengers appear. Johnny swallows hard, craning his neck in search of him. Mark. His...friend? Boyfriend?

"Yo! Dude!" he follows the sound to see a pretty short guy waving at him. Pink, curly hair but a familiar face. He knows that smile, those eyebrows which always make him think of brackets. He's suddenly hit with uncertainty. How do you greet someone you've actually never met? Should they shake hands? Hug? Or even...kiss? He doesn't have the time to think further as Mark is standing in front of him, big smile on his open face and his arm stretched out. Oh, a fist-bump. Johnny extends his arm, fists bumping, feeling impossibly awkward but trying to shake it off. So he smiles.

"So, here you are! How was the flight?"

"Oh you know, it was good. I saw this really cool movie, like with this guy who was really small but like crazy strong though and he was like a hero or something. Have you seen it?" Marks eyes are eager and his face radiates enthusiasm, words coming fast, tumbling over each other. Johnny can't help but think of a puppy.

"Antman? Yeah I've seen it, it was okay I guess" he answers with a small shrug and a smile.

"Okay?! It friggin' rocks! Anyway man, I gotta use the bathroom. Looong flight you know. Like seriously long!" he says while starting for the restrooms. Johnny tries to take his bag, but he doesn't notice and only hands it to him as he enters the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Johnny stays outside waiting, it all feels pretty strange and...forced. But then again, they've never met before. Give it time, he tells himself. When he starts hearing noises from inside he moves further away. Looking into the window of that same shop he's browsed all morning. He kinda regrets giving the panda away. A feeling is gnawing at him. Reluctantly he identifies it as disappointment. This didn't exactly go as he had envisioned it. But then reality rarely does, and the important thing is that he is here! Mark is finally here! They've been talking and dreaming about this day for weeks. That might also be why he blew his expectations up. 

He hears the door open and turns around with a smile. They head for the trains, Mark still talking about his flight, checking now and then so that no one recognises him. Johnny finds two seats but Mark settles for a seat opposite of him, talking about his next project and the companies he's meeting to see if he wants any of them to take him in. Apparently it's easier to be a Canadian artist in Korea then a Korean artist in Canada. He asks about Johnny's latest music project, but he shyly waves if off, deciding to change the subject. 

"So, your hair?" he says, motioning at it, intentionally leaving it open ended.

"Yeah I know right? Like my manager thought I needed to stand out since there are so many trainees you know, and we talked about that really cute guy in BTS you know, or Bangtan or whatever, you know Jimin? And like he had pink hair before. So, the stylist went for that but with a twist. A bit Key right? You know? _I'm married to the muuuusic.."_

Johnny looks around to see if anyone is watching them, unable to stop feeling a bit embarrassed as Mark keeps singing. He is so...loud, and...much. Johnny just isn't used to it. He looks at him, smile not really natural. And he's not too sure about the hair. It's just very pink and very curly. Reminds him of a french poodle. But underneath the hair and the talking and singing he can see this guy, the Mark he knows. The shy guy. Soft guy. The one he's spent his nights talking to. Drifting away to sleep with his voice in his ears, laughing together, feeling… He tells himself it's just nerves, on boths behalf. Everything will be fine once they get to his place, change into comfy clothes and cuddle up on the couch.

He gestures for Mark that they're getting off, while standing up, nodding and laughing at his story. They walk up the stairs and end up on a busy street. Cars driving to and through, as orchestrated, in perfect synchronisation. People hurrying along, smells of food, sounds of car horns, bicycle-bells and the murmur of voices blended together. They stand, watching, taking in the contrast from the quiet train.

"So, there's this place I thought we could go to, nothing fancy but a cute little place that have the best rameyon…" he starts but is soon interrupted. 

"Oh, I was thinking like burgers. You know, like just regular McDonalds. I'm not really in the mood for spicy. There's a McD close to my hotel actually."

"Your..hotel?" There it is again, that feeling gnawing at him. 

"Yeah, you know, my manager thought it would be better if I stayed at a hotel. Since I have all those meetings and need my people close. And...you know...it might look better."

"Oh" 

"Yeah.." Mark looks up at him, something in his eyes. Maybe shame? "But, I got them to let me meet you by myself bro! That's good right?" he continues with a big smile, a light fist boxing Johnny's shoulder. "So ...burgers? You in? You in man? Let's go!"

Johnny laughs and follows him, but he can't shake the sadness. Disappointment eating at him. This was really not what he had hoped for. And he starts to realise that maybe he has read more into this than Mark has. Calling him his boyfriend feels very far off for one. 

They eat, talk and laugh, and Mark gives him a quick hug before hurrying into the foajé of the hotel to check in. Johnny can't help but notice how he didn't even consider inviting him up to his room though, or making further plans. He takes the bus home, walking up the stairs with a heavy heart. Well inside he looks at his meticulously cleaned apartment, new candles placed out, blanket and pillow on the couch more for show as he had hoped they would share his bed. It all seems so naive and dumb now. 

He hangs his coat up, placing his good shoes back in the closet and heads for the kitchen, opening the fridge. He looks at all the food and drinks he's stocked up on. Bottle of good wine and assortment of beers. Different kinds of snacks. He sighs deep, closing his eyes for a second before he takes one of the beers, leaving it on the counter as he changes, picking it up again on his way to the couch. He takes a big sip, lying back, closing his eyes. He's disturbed by the buzzing of his phone, reaching for it with his eyes still closed, pressing the familiar button and the screen lights up. Reluctantly he opens his eyes. A new message. 

" _Hi man! Thanks for picking me up today. I really appreciate it. Sorry if I seemed weird, I was just really nervous. So, I have lots of meetings tomorrow but maybe we could go out on Friday? You pick the place! Sleep tight! Mark"_

He reads it three times, smiling, types out his answer and puts the phone away. Yeah, friday. He'll think of something real good.


	2. Chapter 2

They meet up outside of an office building, Mark's meetings seemingly never-ending. But now it's friday night, dark has settled and the city is bustling. Neon lights reflect in the snow, giving the street a warm sheen. Mark smiles big when he sees him, almost running to him. Johnny laughs at his eagerness. "Johnny!!" he almost screams, giving him that bro-hug-handshake. He has a knitted hat on and a big sheepskin jacket. His eyes are twinkling in the light. Johnny feels something surge inside of him. A warmth.

"Hi! Are you ready to go?" he smiles and Mark nods. They take off, Johnny politely asking about yesterdays meetings, Mark telling him gossip about the different companies and their offers. So far SM seems to be in the lead. Suddenly Johnny stops, causing Mark to silence mid-sentence. "Where here, the first stop of many!" he announces, nodding at the bar on their right. It's small, only a dark, wooden door and a big window framed from inside by green plants, golden light spilling out. It looks warm and welcoming. He nervously looks at Mark, relief washing over him at his surprised smile. 

"Wow, this looks nice!" he says, eyes wide and full of anticipation. "How did you find this place?"

"So this is actually a friends place, but it's really nice. Best drinks in Seoul probably. So...shall we?" 

They walk up the few steps, Johnny pushing the door open and motioning for Mark to enter first. He walks inside, stops in his tracks, looks up and slowly spins around gasping a " _Woooow_ ". Johnny smiles knowingly, he had the same reaction the first time he came here too. He turns his head up, taking in the sight. The ceiling is almost ridiculously high, dome shaped and painted a warm petrol. An enormous brass chandelier with a multitude of arms all holding a bulb omitting that warm, golden light hangs like a piece of jewellery from the ceiling, bathing the place in a soft glow. There are plants everywhere, Epipremnum aureum climbing the walls, Monstera Deliciosa spreading its leaves high in the air in a corner, several delicate orchids in a variety of colours nestled around the thick stems of Guiana chestnuts, the almost black pointed foliage of Colocasias and an abundance of ferns of all shapes and sizes. The smell is forest-like, soft music sounds from hidden speakers and the mist from the humidifiers give the place an enchanted air. 

They smile big at each other before shrugging their coats off and walking up to the counter, made of dark wood. Johnny takes a quick look assessing Mark's outfit and even though he put a lot of effort into his own (ripped blue jeans showing his upper thigh off and a oversized sweater with big stripes in black and white) he feels boring next to Mark. He looks so casually cool, as if he just threw something on but it still came out perfect. He's wearing a red sweater with thin black stripes, a grey cozy hoodie and a black leather jacket with several patches covering it. Looking like a true rockstar. Mark catches him looking and misinterprets. Blushing he says "Yeah I know, the stylist groaned at me for wanting to pile more and more on. I really should be better at handling the cold, being Canadian and all, but...it's freezing man! And my manager has me on a diet so I'm always cold!" Johnny laughs in response.

"Well we'll have to do something about that then, so you don't freeze to death before the night is over. I have a lot planned you know."

"Is that so?" Mark retorts, eyebrow raised, almost looking...flirty?" Johnny gulps.

"Yeah, but don't tell your manager on me or she might not let you near me again" he mock-whispers with a wink before placing their order. Mark insists on paying regardless of Johnny's protests so he lets him and they sit down at a corner table, ferns tickling at Johnny's nape. Within minutes someone bursts out of the kitchen door, striding with confidence towards their table shouting "Suh!". His long brown hair is partly tied up in a bun accentuating his features. "I didn't know you were coming! I would have given you drinks on the house if I had!" he continues, smiling warm while draping his arm over Johnny's shoulders, ruffling his hair. "And who is this cute puppy?" he asks, turning towards Mark, slowly looking him up and down with that special glint in his eyes. Mark instantly turns crimson. 

Clearing his throat to break the tension Johnny says "This is Yuta, my Japanese friend and bar-owner, and this is Mark, Canadian star-to-be", motioning at them and purposely avoiding to label his and Mark's relation. Yuta raises his brows, smug grin on his face, eyes locked on Mark. Like a hungry cat spotting a mouse, Johnny thinks to himself. 

"Star-to-be, huh?" he purrs. "I'd better get your autograph now then?" Mark goes even redder looking like he's about to choke. The door swings open again and the tense mood is interrupted by the waiter carrying a huge tray full of bowls and plates with different snacks and drinks in tall glasses decorated with pine twigs and mist. 

"I'm pretty sure we didn't order this much" Johnny states, knowing gaze at Yuta who only shrugs innocently. 

"Cook must be in a good mood then". He winks at Mark, wishing them a nice evening, making Johnny promise they'll have drinks soon, before sauntering back leisurely with his hips swaying. 

"So yeah...that's Yuta for you. Bar-owner and notorious player" Johnny smirks, but with his voice full of affection. Mark smiles shyly, digging into the food as if he'd been starving. He wasn't kidding about that diet. They eat, laugh, toasting everything they can come up with. Drinks keep coming courtesy of Yuta. When they finally leave they are warm, relaxed, happy and a tad tipsy. All earlier awkwardness long forgotten. Laughing loud, arm slung around the other for support, they make their way to the next stop, the first taking so much time that Johnny has to skip a few of the planned to catch up. 

"So, where are we going now?" Mark asks.

"Well, we were gonna go eat at this cat-themed place", Mark groans at the mere mention of eating, "and then we were gonna have coffee at this really cute little pancake house, but thanks to Yuta we only have the last stop left. But it comes in two parts." he adds when Mark looks at him, the night still being young. 

"Sounds exciting! Can you tell me more?" he tries to fish.

Johnny laughs, looking at him as if considering his options. Then he sighs in surrender at Marks puppy eyes. 

"Okay okay, I remembered how you talked about being interested in culture, so we are going to the opening night of a art exhibition. They are displaying several new, young artists. And there is wine!" he adds. There is a pause. "Oh. Cool." Mark simply says. Johnny frowns at the lack of enthusiasm but decides to let it slide as they have reached the gallery. He holds the chiming door open for Mark and they walk inside, the warmth and murmur of voices hitting them. They hand over their coats, smiling politely, take a glass of champagne from a tray and head for the pieces. 

The first room is filled with big frameless canvases adorned with big blocks of bright colors reminding Johnny of cubism but with a modern twist. He turns to ask Mark for his opinion but realises he's already ahead of him, casting quick glances at each piece before scurrying forward. He frowns again. Had Mark faked his cultural interest to impress? Or did he misunderstand him somehow? Maybe this just wasn't his kind of art show? He sighs and turns back to the painting, slowly moving forward, assessing each one, letting it speak to him. The next artist's works are all enormous graffiti-inspired tags. All beautifully crafted, but the simplicity of the words make it a bit too banale for Johnny's liking. "Freedom", "Equality" and such. He walks into the next room only to stop in his tracks. These paintings are much smaller and fewer than the abundance of oversized ones earlier. But somehow they are just...striking. They have him dumbfounded. There are only four of them, hanging in a row, no graffiti, no bright colors or bold fonts. Just...scenery. All four depict the same scene. A forest, at dusk. At first they seem to be the same, but the longer he admires them the more differences he finds. 

In the first one the forest seems welcoming, the last rays of sun trickling through the branches of a furtree. Soft moss glistening on the ground, as if a light rain had just fallen. A feeling of serenity. The next one fills him with sadness, though he doesn't understand why. The scene looks the same but everything just seems..hollow. The light cold and grey, the trees seem as if about to whither. Moss seemingly sharp, as if covered in barely visible frost. The third one seems haunting, filling him with dread. Although it all looks the same the feeling is changed, the sense of something being terribly wrong hanging in the air. The trees have a eery look to them. He shudders and moves on to the last one, taking a sip of his champagne as if to calm his nerves. The forth one hits him the hardest and is also the hardest one to grasp. The scenery is the same, but everything is moved slightly to the left, as if the viewer had taken a short step to the side. The colors are the same but somehow warmer. There is something hopeful about it. A feeling of….he frowns as it slips from his grasp, trying hard to identify the feeling. He searches it, watching the brushstrokes, the hints of color barely visible under the muted browns and dark greens. And then he spots it. Half obscured by a pinetree, further in, almost where the dark shadows take over, hiding everything so that only vague shapes remain, there is a small, white, delicate flower growing. So small that he can't understand how the artist managed to paint it in such sharp detail. It's exquisite. And watching it makes him feel as if he is the only one who has ever seen it, even though he knows that isn't possible. He takes a step back, watching the whole picture again. It's taunting him, the feeling is so familiar, right there in front of him, but impossible to grasp. 

"What do you think?" a voice softly asks, almost a whisper, next to his ear. 

"I absolutely love them!" he answers. A weight to the words he didn't intend. Sincerity in his voice. 

"Good", the voice simply says, a satisfied grin laced in the word. When he's finally able to tear his gaze from the painting who ever was asking is gone. He looks back and satisfaction rolls over him in a wave as he finally grasps the alluring feeling. It's love! New love! That delicate, vulnerable feeling of hope, of everything being new and possible. He looks at it a final time, lingers, reluctant to leave. Then he takes a deep breath and keeps walking.

None of the remaining pieces catches him even though a few of them are really good. He finds himself returning to the four over and again. After a while Mark walks up to him, he's clearly had a few more glasses of wine as he's swaying slightly. 

"What do you think of these?" Johnny asks. Mark looks at them, squints in concentration and the swaying gets more noticeable. 

"Hm" he grunts. "Why paint four identical ones? That's like releasing the same song four times!" he chuckles.

"They aren't the same though, if you…"

"Whatever" Mark interrupts, "remind me, didn't you say this stop came in two parts?"

"Yeah I did", Johnny answers, trying to mask the irritation in his voice though Mark doesn't seem to notice, "we just have to wait a bit longer. "

The stream of people moving through the gallery gets thinner and thinner until only a small group remains. Johnny walks around, greeting people and introducing Mark who has his most charming smile on, making polite smalltalk to each and every one. Then, as if on que, they all start moving towards the door, gathering their coats and scarfs in their arms, walking the few, snowy steps over to the quaint little restaurant next door where a long table is set in the middle of the room, candles lit in antique looking candelabras and wine poured in decanters set out on the white, thick tablecloth. They all sit down, a murmur of happy voices and occasional laughs blending with the music. Johnny ends up on the opposite side of the table from Mark, who is deep in conversation with someone he's met before, some music producer or such.

Someone pours wine in Johnny's glass and he turns and gives his thanks. His eyes instantly widen as he looks at him. He is beautiful. That is his first thought, impossible to ignore. Because he is, absolutely beautiful. Soft, black hair, shining in the candlelight. Skin smooth, in a warm tone. Eyes glistening, something mischievous over the way he holds Johnny's gaze, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned in a smirk that somehow seems hearty rather than unpleasant. Delicate features and lean body contrasting with the knowing look in his eyes. As if he can read him. As if he knows everything there is to know. Johnny swallows hard. 

"I know you" he says, tilting his head, smile slowly growing. 

"Y-you do?" Johnny stutters, feeling his cheeks warm up. 

"Yeah, you're the one who apparently "absolutely loved" my pieces." he resumes, a light laughter in his voice.

Johnny can feel his jaw drop but somehow he can't stop himself, as if he's totally lost control, watching from afar as he looks back with awe, gasping "Oh you! You're the artist!" He's met with another airy laugh.

"Yes, indeed I am. I saw you looking almost mesmerised by them so I had to find out if it was because you liked them or if you were simply frozen with horror and disgust" he laughs. A playful glint in his eyes.

Johnny feels a big, goofy grin creep over his face but is too in awe to care. "Yes, I was. Mesmerised. They really...struck me! That last one…" his voice drifts of, longingly, making the other laugh again.

"Wow, I think you might be my first fan" he says, voice mocking in a friendly way. 

"Hardly the first" Johnny snorts, "just the way you depicted that flower…" He catches surprise and something else flicker in the others eyes before they are interrupted by the familiar sound of clinking against glass. The gallery owner stands at the end of the table, thanking everyone for coming, praising the artists and so on. Johnny can't focus, constantly aware of the person to his right. His polite laughter, his nods, how he tilts his head when he listens. His mind is in turmoil, as if his whole world had suddenly been tilted on its axis. He takes a deep sip of wine, fighting for control. He doesn't even realise the speech is over until that soft voice speaks again, close to his ear, making the hairs on his neck stand.

"So, you don't smile much do you?" He quickly turns his head, blushing furiously. 

"Wha..I don't?" he splutters, feeling a embarrassed grin come over him. God, this person has him stuttering and spluttering like a fool. But he just can't help it! That airy, hearty laughter washes over him again.

"I take it back, apparently you can! You just looked so serious before" he motions with his hand to his face, making his features stiff and void of feeling, "but I'll admit when I'm wrong. I'm Ten by the way", he continues, offering his hand. Johnny looks at it, noticing the tattoo on his arm. Beautiful starlike lines, like rays omitting from a almost crest-like center. He pryes his eyes away, looks up and meets Ten's amused eyes, smiles and takes his hand in his. And it's like a current through him. His mind blanks. Everything around them fades away. Dumbfounded he stares at Ten, before he composes himself, clearing his throat and forcing the words out.

"Johnny. I'm Johnny."

Ten throws his head back, laughing again. "I like you Johnny, you're certainly not like everybody else" he chuckles in that way, that feels so familiar. As if they were old friends. There's just that warmth to him. Johnny has that big goofy smile again, but he doesn't care. 

They talk, laugh, sipping wine and it feels as if time has stopped until someone calls "Hey you! Tall guy!" Johnny turns around, seeing the music producer flail his hands around as if to catch his attention. "Yeah, you! You're friends with Mark right?" He nods and looks to where Mark was seated only to realise that he is lying face down on the table, eyes closed, a bit of spit on his lower lip. Oh no. "Yeah, your 'friend' here is flat out drunk. You'd better get him home. Can you do that?" The man looks at him with a piercing stare. 

"Yeah, of course. Of course I can!" he hurriedly says, fumbling to stand up and walks around the table, trying to make Mark come to life. He calls a taxi and says his thanks to the hosts, making his goodbyes, apologising for Marks state. Then he hoists him up, throwing his limp arm over his shoulder, and that's when he catches Ten's gaze. He's looking at him with a peculiar smile. Eyes narrowed. 

"Nice to meet you...Johnny Suh" he says. Johnny hums in agreement and starts dragging Mark outside. He manages to maneuver him into the taxi, promising the driver that he'll pay the fines if he throws up. Then he finally sits down on the passenger seat, with a deep sigh.

"Where to?" the driver asks, looking anything but pleased. He tries hard to remember the name of Marks hotel until he sighs again, giving him his own address. It isn't until he's lying in bed, after managing to get Mark into his apartment, persuading him to go to the bathroom, fetching him when he realises he's fallen asleep, getting him tucked in on the couch (covered in towels) and placing a bucket beside him, that it hits him. 

"Nice to meet you...Johnny Suh"

Johnny never told him his surname. 


	3. Chapter 3

"God, did we get hammered last night or what?!" Mark groans. It's only now, after five trips to the bathroom puking his guts out, that he can finally talk again, save from grunts and groans. Johnny refrains from telling him that he did the getting-hammered part on his own, and gives him another painkiller instead.

"Sorry about the trouble though. And thanks for letting me crash here, my manager would _not_ have been happy if I came back in that state. Urgh...I should really call her." he groans, leaning his head over the couch. Johnny takes a shower, giving him space to make his calls, and when he's done Mark is already packing his stuff, jacket on and a pair of sunglasses hiding his puffy eyes. 

"I'm borrowing these. Thanks again man, and thanks for yesterday. I really had a good time. That Yuta, we should bring him next time. Right? Well, see ya!" he calls over his shoulder and then he's gone. Johnny looks at the state of his poor living room, sighs and gets to work. When every trace of drunk-Mark is gone he slumps down on the couch, watching the ceiling. He can't stop thinking about _him_. His eyes. His laughter. His words, seeming as if each one is assessed and weighed before uttered. And that melodic way in which he speaks, almost in a sing-song kind of way. There is a hint of an accent there, soft and alluring. He groans. 

And he thinks about Mark. Whatever this is between them. Last night he almost thought, for a second… But while sober there is absolutely no closeness between them. Mark seemingly creating distance on purpose. He closes his eyes, reliving last night, trying to tuck Mark in while he kept asking Johnny if he "found that Yuta-guy sexy as hell too". And here he was, just a week ago, thinking that he and Mark were in love. He smirks. 

A few days pass without a word from Mark. Johnny goes to work, comes home, eats, watches TV and sleeps. Or, tries to sleep. But his mind is haunted by a beautiful face, tattooed arm and an addictive laughter. He's googled him. Of course. Took him about two hours after coming home that Friday until he was. But the only thing he found was an article from the exhibition. No pictures of him, only of his paintings. Johnny has the fourth saved as his wall-paper, looking at it every now and then envisioning its creator. 

_Ten,Ten...where are you?_

It's friday again when Yuta suddenly calls. It's with a sense of dread that Johnny picks up.

"Suh! Do you remember those drinks? Yeah? Well I'm taking that friend of yours out tonight so...do you wanna tag along?"

Johnny goes silent. The sense of dread growing. 

"Suh? You there?"

"Which friend Yuta?"

"The cute one!"

"Yuta...which friend?" He can almost hear Yutas confusion over the phone. 

"Mark…?" 

Johnny sighs. "Yuta, do you remember that guy I dated online? For months?

"....yeah?"

"That _Canadian_ guy?"

"....oh"

"Yes, _oh_."

"So...you don't want me to take him out?"

Johnny shuts his eyes, groaning in annoyance. "Honestly...I don't even know what I want anymore. Do what you want."

"Okay, but...I mean...if something should happen?"

"Yuta!"

"I know, but like...I need to ask you _now_ so you don't get like...angry if it does so...can I sleep with h…"

Johnny throws the phone away growling into his pillow. Of all the people on earth, why, _WHY_ must his best friend be Nakamoto Yuta?! 

He wallows in his hurt all day. But as night falls he's simply too bored to keep it up. So he puts his black flannel on, getting his black converse out, in spite of the weather, and finally his leather jacket. He takes a look in the mirror before leaving. He looks okay. No, he looks good. He looks good and he's gonna go out. He's not gonna stay at home sulking over Yuta-the-idiot and Mark-...whatever he is or isn't. He gives himself a reassuring nod before opening the door.

The streets are full of life. Lights, sounds, smells and people, people everywhere. He mingles into the crowd, feeling less alone as if they're all part of something, a bigger entity made up by all these bodies moving to and through, looking for some drinks, maybe a good meal, some laughs, company,...love. He lets his feet carry him wherever, letting his thoughts stray, but still ends up outside the gallery. Then again he already knew he would, somehow. He doesn't go inside. Doesn't dare to. He just stays outside, looking in, wondering if someone's standing in front of that painting, feeling as mesmerised as he did a week ago. Somehow it seems as if it was ages ago. 

And then he sees him. Wearing a oversized cream sweater and light blue jeans he almost seems to flow through the crowd. Johnny watches breathlessly, every move seeming so familiar. The way he tilts his head, the way he smiles, the way his chin turns up as he laughs. And then he's looking back at him, that knowing look in his eyes again. As if he knew Johnny would be there. 

The door chimes as it opens and they are standing face to face, looking at each other. Everything around them fading away. Johnny can't help but smile, making Ten laugh. "So, Johnny Suh, standing at the door. I wonder whatever for?" he teases.

"I...I wanted to see you" he admits, feeling as if he just jumped off a building. Ten looks at him in silence, a small smile on his lips, eyes thoughtful. Suddenly he raises his hand, softly cupping Johnny's cheek.

"I like you Johnny" he says low, "but I can see that you have things you need to deal with." There is a tightness in Johnny's chest, growing rapidly.

"No Johnny, this is _not_ me shooting you down. Do you hear me?" he continues, forcing Johnny to meet his eyes. "This is me asking you to hurry. I will be waiting, Johnny Suh" he adds, softly stroking his cheek. Johnny searches his eyes for any sign of mockery, but his face is open. His eyes sad, almost pleading. There is something so vulnerable about it that Johnny can't help but wrap his arms around him, holding him, willing him to feel how much he wants this. How much he needs it. 

"I will" he whispers. "I will hurry. Wait for me." And he is rewarded with that laughter he's come to love. He buries his face in the crook of Ten's neck, breathing him in, and then he lets go. Slowly walking backwards, unable to tear his eyes away. Ten has his hand over his mouth, eyes wet but full of happiness. He can see that he's laughing and Johnny does nothing to hide the tears in his eyes, the goofy smile on his face. He finally knows what he wants. He's got to hurry. People walk between them and soon he can't see Ten no more, so he turns and starts running. 

He finds them at Yuta's bar, like he knew he would. Yuta would never treat anyone at another bar when he can do it at his own for practically free. The bar is half full, people dancing on the small bits of free floor between the tables. They are standing at the far back, and it isn't until he's just mere steps away that he realises what they are doing. Mark with his back to the wall, one leg between Yuta's, who has his hands tangled in Mark's pink hair, tilting his head back...kissing him. Anger strikes him from nowhere, making him see red. He takes the last steps, unaware of what he's doing, and shoves Yuta in the back. He spins around in fear, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he sees him. 

"Why do you have to be such a shitty friend!? _Why_?" he's screaming. Yuta hangs his head, looking ashamed and Johnny is ready to give him another go when a strong hand clasps around his wrist, dragging him towards the door. 

"What?" he snarls as the door closes behind them. Mark watches him in silence for a while. Then he sighs heavily, leaning his head in his hands. Johnny hesitates, suddenly feeling at loss.

"Are you in love with me?" he asks when he finally looks up again.

"W-what?" Johnny stutters, trying to back away, only to feel Mark's hand close around his wrist again. His eyes are determined as they hold his own. 

"It's a simple question Johnny. Are.you.in.love.with.me?" he slowly says, punctuating every word. Johnny hangs his head, feeling something wash over him. Maybe it's shame. 

"No" he whispers. 

"No" Mark echoes, "You're not. So what right do you have, acting like a wounded hero? Embarrassing us? Do you honestly want me to believe you wouldn't have done the same?" Johnny opens his mouth to protest when Mark holds his hand up, silencing him. "Save it. Don't you think I saw you at the restaurant? With that guy? The way you looked at him. If he would have kissed you right there and then...are you telling me you would have asked him to stop?"

"No" he whispers again. He wouldn't. He knows it with every bone in his body. If Ten had kissed him he would gladly have given in, forgotten about everything else. Even Mark.

"So why is it that you're allowed to feel that way when I am not? Don't you think I saw it in your eyes? At the airport. Johnny, you knew you weren't in love with me the moment you laid eyes on me. Don't pretend otherwise. You've hurt me enough as it is. So, please, let me go now. Let me have this. I deserve to be happy, as do you. So...let us." And with those words he is gone. Johnny just stands there for a while, trying to fathom what Mark said. Knowing that it was all true. He'd been so caught up in his own feelings that he never stopped to consider Mark's. He slowly turns and starts walking home. Suddenly overcome with fatigue. He barely gets his shoes off before he throws himself, head first, on the couch and cries. He doesn't really understand why, but his chest is aching with feelings that need to come out. So he lets them. Crying until he's all cried out, slipping into a dreamless sleep. 

Another week goes by. Johnny calls in sick, huddles in. He isn't sad really, but it feels as if...the air has been punched right out of his lungs. He doesn't know himself anymore. He thought he was the good guy, turns out he's the opposite. Johnny has lost his confidence. 

So he stays inside, sitting on the couch, body tense, incapacitated. 

He gets a call from Yuta, saying he's sorry over and over. Johnny almost has to scream to catch his attention, telling him it's okay. Then he asks if he's really a shitty friend, and Johnny spends another fifteen minutes persuading him he's not. Then he grows silent. He's almost whispering when he starts again, voice wavering when he confesses that this isn't like his usual fuckboy-flirts. 

"I just...I just really like him Johnny. I know it was wrong, and I never meant to...but..I know how this sounds but I couldn't help it! It was as if I was...drawn to him. Yeah, yeah I sound stupid, I know. But I'm being honest. The first time I saw him, in the bar, I just...had to see him again. I'm sorry Johnny. Maybe I am a shitty friend."

Johnny sighs deep, he's never heard Yuta say anything even remotely like this before. And he can hear the pain in his voice, making any remaining anger fade away. "No Yuta, you are not. I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I barged in on you like that. I want you to be happy. So...be happy, or whatever." he says, chuckling uncomfortably, not used to talking in this manner, having heart-to-hearts with Yuta of all people. 

Yuta laughs low in response, seeming to hesitate. Then he clears his throat. "You know...you deserve to be happy too. Don't let this bring you down. Like...don't think too much about what Mark said, I know he was angry but really...I think he just feels guilty too. You are not a shitty friend Johnny. You're a really, really good friend. I'm glad that I've got you. Gooood, are we done now? I'm cringing so hard my muscles will be sore for weeks!" he suddenly bursts and Johnny can't hold back his laughter. They talk some more about casual things, Yuta making Johnny promise to come by soon, before they hang up.

Johnny feels lighter somehow. Ready. So he changes out of his comfy sweats, settling for a white, thin, long sleeved T-shirt, showing off a bit of his collar bones, and loose, sky blue jeans. He puts some cologne on, dabbing a bit of essence on his skin making it look less dull. Then he's ready. He doesn't get far though as there's a knock on the door. He freezes, rapidly flicking through the options of who it could possibly be, coming up empty. There's another knock, and he shakes his head, silently walking up to the door, hesitating with his hand on the handle, but when it knocks a third time he slowly opens the door.

"Hi Johnny Suh!" He's greeted by a smiling face, but eyes full of hesitation and uncertainty. He looks almost nervous standing on his doorstep, hands hidden in the paws of his sweater sticking out from the sleeves of his coat, dusted with snow.

"Ten" he breathes, as if saying his name out loud would make it feel more real that he's actually standing here, outside of his door. 

Ten lets out a little laugh, nodding at him "So...can I come in?"

For a beat Johnny's just looking at him, mouth agape, still not really believing that this is really happening, then he quickly moves to the side, motioning for him to step inside. "Oh, oh yeah of course. Welcome..or you know...come in!", he stutters earning him that laugh again. 

He motions for Ten to sit and scurries over to the fridge to get something to offer him, hesitating a bit but figuring it's the weekend after all he pulls out that bottle of good wine, taking two glasses from the rack before walking back, sitting down next to him. He busies himself with opening the bottle, pouring the wine, thankful as it gives him a chance to collect himself. 

He offers one glass to Ten and they sip the wine in silence. He can see Ten's eyes travel around his place, and mimics it, trying to see it through his eyes. The greyish-blue walls, silver picture frames forming groups here and there, big couch in the middle of the room, coffee table with neat stacks of books and a small bowl of fruit. The open kitchen with its cream colored retro fridge and marble-look kitchen island. Thin wine glasses on racks, a wooden crate full of various bottles of oils and sauces. Grey velvet drapes framing the big window taking up most of the opposite wall. Soft light throughout. Yeah, it's not big or fancy, but he loves his home.

Their eyes meet and Ten smiles, seemingly much more at ease. "So, Johnny" he starts, a playful glint in his eyes, "you haven't come to see me." It's both a statement and a question and for a second he catches something hurt flicker in his eyes. Unable to stop himself he reaches out, letting his fingers brush over the smooth skin of his cheek, the touch sending shivers down his spine. 

"I'm sorry" he says. "I've been doing as you said, sorting things."

"Have you then?" he asks, locking his eyes "Sorted it?"

"Yeah. I have. I'm done." he answers, smiling, fingers trailing into Ten's hair.

"So...why aren't you kissing me then, Johnny Suh?" he says, tilting his head in question. 

Johnny gulps, letting his eyes travel over his features, as if to memorize every last detail. His breaths are shaky as he slowly leans in, inching closer, all senses hyper aware as his lips softly brush against Ten's half opened ones. The impact hits him with a pang and he closes his eyes, forgets to breath, pushes forward, closer. Tingles travel across his skin, making all the small hairs stand in goosebumps. His heart is beating so loud he's sure Ten can hear it. He's slowly moving his lips against Ten's, softly, needy. There is a pull inside of him, drawing him in, closer and closer, still he can't seem to get close enough. Ten breaths out a small whine and Johnny groans, something tightening in his chest, a feverish want rushing through him. He moves even closer, tilting Ten's head, ending up on top of him, feeling his lean body flush against his and it's dizzying. Intoxicating. He breathes his name, over and over, unable to believe that this is actually happening. 

"Johnny Suh, I'm in love with you." he suddenly whispers. Laughing softly. "I've been your fan for so long."

Johnny pulls away, looks at him in disbelief but he just nods, laughing. "You clearly don't remember me but I did some vocals on one of your songs. I've been a fan ever since" he continues with a shy shrug. "So when I saw you at the gallery, gawking over my paintings I knew I had to get close to you. That's why I made sure I'd get the seat next to you in the restaurant. Trying to charm you. Did it work?" His voice is teasing, laced with laughter, but there is a weight to it, a seriousness, something vulnerable in the way he smiles, lowering his eyes. 

Johnny watches him breathlessly and then he whispers back. "It did! You _definitely_ charmed me. And I haven't been able to think about anything else ever since." He's blushing at the honesty of his own words, but doesn't stop. "I...I'm just mesmerised by you Ten. I've never _ever_ felt like this before. I'm-", he takes a deep breath, looking into Ten's eyes and decides to give his all. "I'm in love with you too. _So_ in love! It's actually driving me crazy!" Ten's laughing underneath him and Johnny's chest is so filled with happiness that it almost hurts. So he kisses him again, and again, smiling into every kiss, unable to believe his luck. 

And inside of him it grows, that delicate, vulnerable feeling of hope, of everything being new and possible. Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was my first try at a Johnten-fic.  
> I really hope I did them justice. 
> 
> This fic wouldn't be without the support from @organicbabycheese Thank you, as always <3
> 
> Hope that you enjoyed this, and please leave kudos or comment if you did!
> 
> Love


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